The term “blockbuster” is a bit of a dirty word among cinema purists. It’s hard to argue that films of this genre (and yes, blockbuster is now definitely a genre all its own) are nothing more than cash-rakers, shaped by studio executives, marketed and merchandised to ridiculous nadirs, pumped up and out into multiplexes around the world. Even the films with the most heart–those from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the juggernaut that is Star Wars, for instance–are heavily monitored by the studios, producers, and production companies that preside over them (and one has only to look at the “creative difference” debacles hovering over Ant-Man and the Han Solo prequel from each franchise to see that risk-taking is decidedly frowned upon). Moreover, for every Infinity War and Last Jedi, we have yet another Transformers or Fast and Furious sequel, a board or video game injected with bull-testosterone and sprung to cinematic life, or the latest entry in a long line of raunchy comedies that focus more on gross-out gags than timing and wit (yeah, we’ll be talking about the Ghostbusters reboot too).
And there’s nothing exactly wrong with spectacle and escapism, even when it’s of the big and dumb variety. The problem is that there is a shortage of variety, and for the most part studios hope to establish a new franchise, another MCU, Star Wars, or even Harry Potter. Recall Universal’s abysmal attempt at their Dark Universe franchise, or Twentieth Century Fox’s Miss Peregrine gambit, which was only a modest box office success, and was ultimately marred by Tim Burton’s late-career mediocrity and out-of-touch opinions on racial diversity, all of which likely quashed any hopes for a sequel. There is far too much putting the cart before the horse in Hollywood. Ideas aren’t allowed to grow organically, and the studios foster the marketability of a property, not the property itself (and even the idea that films are “properties” is one fraught with problems).
But it wasn’t always this way, of course. Blockbusters began in earnest with Jaws, which for all intents and purposes is a rather simple, straight-forward narrative brought to life by a then young and upcoming director, Steven Spielberg–itself a risk on the studio’s part, given his relative “inexperience” at the time. Two years later, blockbusters received further shaping from Star Wars, which provided the basic archetype by which all other blockbusters would be judged–will adults and kids alike enjoy it, and how much can this thing be merchandised? Even then, however, sequels weren’t necessarily planned alongside the original films, because first and foremost they had to ensure there was a quality original film to begin with, and this had everything to do with trusting their filmmakers to deliver, to let the creative team do what they do and market what they produced–i.e., the horse came before the cart.
This relationship is perhaps best exemplified by the production, release, and success of Ghostbusters, the original 1984 sci-fi, quasi-horror comedy from writers Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis and director Ivan Reitman. It began life as a sprawling adventure conceived by the meticulous Aykroyd, with special effects needs that the studio, Columbia Pictures, wasn’t prepared to fund. Enter Ramis, who scaled back the production to more modest means and included an origin story for the titular heroes, a rags-to-riches tale that takes Peter Venkman (originally written for John Belushi, and played by Bill Murray following Belushi’s death), Ray Stantz (Aykroyd), Egon Spengler (Ramis) and later Winston Zedemore (Ernie Hudson, though Eddie Murphy was the original choice) on a journey from public mockery to widespread lionization–with some great jokes and paranormal set pieces along the way.
Throughout the production, the studio didn’t much interject with ideas on how to improve the script, the action, or the special effects. Instead, they simply monitored what Reitman and company were up to, and began advertising the movie based on what they saw. In the DVD commentary, Reitman points out that filming on location in New York alone was a big part of ramping up public excitement for the film; gathered crowds would watch Murray, Aykroyd, and Ramis in full costume, running down the street, or see the Ecto-1 (a souped-up ambulance serving as the heroes’ transportation), and they would ask, “What is this?” The answer from the crew was always simply, “Ghostbusters. See it.” Additionally, in place of a more traditional teaser trailer, the studio simply ran the Ghostbusters commercial–seen within the film right before Dana Barrett (Sigourney Weaver) has her first encounter with Zuul–in theaters and on TV in the months leading up to the film’s release. Posters, official trailers, and TV spots would follow, of course, but what’s key here is that the initial press on this film grew one hundred percent organically, culled from what the film had to offer rather than offering something the film itself might, in the end, not deliver (how many times, these days, do filmgoers say, “Well, the trailer looked awesome, but the movie sucked”?).
And of course, this strategy paid off. Ghostbusters was a monster success that spawned a cartoon, toys, cereal, and numerous other tie-in merchandising, as well as the inevitable sequel. However, Ghostbusters II (1989) is a demonstration in how much the Hollywood landscape had already changed, even a mere five years later. While still a highly enjoyable film, there is a distinct watering down effect throughout the narrative, with the proceedings much lighter than the original film, much more family-friendly and more connected to The Real Ghostbusters cartoon than its cinematic predecessor–even down to the look of Janine (Annie Potts), who had a nerdy, librarian vibe in the first film, but looks much more like her animated, New Wave counterpart in the sequel. The ghosts and effects are puffier and more cartoonish, and whereas Ramis scaled back Aykroyd’s original script to focus more on story than visual effects, it is the opposite set-up on Ghostbusters II, where the effects team actually dictated the development of the story. Even the soundtrack is decidedly “hipper,” with a Run-DMC remake of the timeless Ray Parker Jr. “Ghostbusters” theme song, as well as tracks by Bobby Brown, New Edition, and Doug E. Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew (yes, these acts were hip in 1988). Again, Ghostbusters II is a decent and entertaining film, but the efforts to maintain the kid-friendly franchise and further reach the “youth market” are apparent–transparent, even–and the movie definitely suffers from it.
But for the ultimate example of blockbuster-making run amok, one has only to look at the 2016 reboot of Ghostbusters. This very well could have been a worthy retelling of the original story. The filmmakers–screenwriter Kate Dippold and writer/director Paul Feig–were certainly on the right track by having the Peter Venkman correlative Erin Gilbert (Kristen Wiig) hold on to her snarky skepticism longer than Murray’s interpretation of the character (well, sort of), and expanding the backstory of their iteration of Winston, Patty Tolan (Leslie Jones), which was the intention way back in 1984 when Eddie Murphy was still in the running to play the character. Other than combining the Saturday Night Live and SNL-related talents of Kate McKinnon and Melissa McCarthy, however, the successes pretty much stop there. The Ghostbusters theme song once again gets a remake that nobody asked for, this time by Fall Out Boy and Missy Elliot, of all people, the jokes mostly rely on the crutches of puke, farts, and over-the-top screaming, the special effects are so cartoonish they may as well be Roger Rabbit-style animation on top of live-action, and the script is so slip-shod it seems to have been written by amateurs rather than professionals with several, decidedly better films under their belt. The characters are poorly developed and played mostly to stock type by the actors–in other words, they’re just doing their usual schtick. The entire film feels less like a cohesive narrative, and more like a loosely interconnected collection of SNL sketches–and SNL on a bad night, at that.
How did this film end up being such a major disappointment? Of course, it has nothing to do with the all-female cast (sorry to burst your bubble, sexist internet trolls), and everything to do with the multi-film franchise planning instigated by director Feig and ate up by Sony studio head Amy Pascal, as outlined in the now infamous leaked studio emails that revealed the dirty secrets of Hollywood movie magic. In other words, Feig, Pascal and everyone involved put the cart before the horse–but we can’t necessarily blame them for doing so. For better and for worse, this is the current state of filmmaking: every studio wants that next Harry Potter, Star Wars, or MCU, because these franchises rake in the dough. The rebooted Ghostbusters failed to make a dent at the box office, but films of equal mediocrity do and will continue to do so, as long as fans pay to see them in droves.
So where does that leave us? Do we stop seeing movies in the theater altogether? It seems unlikely that would happen, in the same way gym memberships increase at the beginning of every year but America’s obesity problem continues on anyway, unabated.
And perhaps therein lies the answer: studios need to remember that people will go to the movies no matter what, but they’ll especially eat up a film if it looks genuinely promising and offers them something they’ve never seen before. The Ghostbusters reboot and the 1989 sequel in the end didn’t offer much more than what we’d already seen–either within the Ghostbusters franchise or elsewhere–but of course that wasn’t the case for the original film, which again, grew organically, from a crazy idea cooked up in Dan Aykroyd’s imaginative brain to a lean script with distinct characters, excellent comedic timing, and supernatural set pieces that both worked on their own and further propelled the narrative. The cartoons, the cereals, the lunch boxes, and the sequels, all of that came later and arose from the quality of that first film. It left audiences wanting more, not expecting more because that’s just the way things go. Hollywood needs to foster a demand for franchises first, not the other way around.
In other words, a cart needs a horse, because it cannot pull itself.
